An Unexpected Situation
by LucianAella
Summary: "Are you finally awake, my dear?" the soft Irish tones drifted from the far corner of the room. Sherlock found himself completely naked, handcuffed to a bed. Ok, this is what happens when i can't sleep. Much gay slash.


A sharp pain dug into Sherlock's pale wrists. Groaning, he opened his heavy lidded eyes, blinking at the bright light. After attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes, he realised that his hands were cuffed above his head to the headboard of a large bed. Suddenly he was aware of the rest of his surroundings. Tied to a king-size bed covered with rich, soft blankets and pillows of a deep royal purple. Sherlock lay there, completely naked. He was confused and didn't like it. He seemed to be in an expensive hotel room if the furnishings were anything to go by but his drug induced mind could not deduce which.

"Are you finally awake, my dear?" the soft Irish tones drifted from the far corner of the room. "I've been waiting _such _a long time for you, it'd be no fun otherwise," The consulting criminal grinned mischievously.

"What am I doing here? What do you want with me?" Sherlock growled as authoritatively as he could, though the effect was somewhat diminished by his current position.

"I've gone through all this trouble for us, Sherlie, and you don't even appreciate the effort?" he replied, his voice laden with mock hurt, "Isn't it obvious? Then again you haven't had much experience with this sort of thing have you? I want you." The devilish smirk was back again as Moriarty approached the bed slowly, removing his expensive clothes as he did, dropping them carelessly on the plush carpet.

Sherlock gulped. He knew what Moriarty was going to do, at least he thought he did. A lump developed in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Unsure of the new feeling that slowly began to creep through his body, he wriggled uncomfortably. Moriarty reached the bed, all of his clothes littering the floor. He began to crawl up towards Sherlock until he was straddling his thighs. His hands lightly traced Sherlock's slim torso committing every shadow and line to memory. Flicking one of the dark nipples experimentally, he leant forward so his face was barely inches above his arch enemy's. A hot blush crept up Sherlock's neck, he swallowed, not sure what to do.

He was about to be raped. Or would it be rape? The anticipation that enveloped his body would suggest otherwise. Did he want this?

"Are you ok, Sherlie?" Moriarty teases, lying fully on top of the consulting detective. Sherlock's breath hitched at the sudden contact, his eyelids fluttering at the new feeling of someone else so close.

"Yes?" he breathed into Jim's ear, unsure of the answer he was giving.

"Oh good!" the playful, sing-song tone felt different to Sherlock than on any other of their meetings. "Don't you think it's about time to have some fun?" Before he could reply, Jim sealed their lips together. This new sensation sent a burning desire through his slender body, kindling a fire of such strength in the pit of his stomach. Jim bit Sherlock's lower lip, licking entrance to his mouth, Sherlock gave in almost instantly, opening his mouth so he could taste Jim properly, their tongues rolling over each other. Why had he ignored any attempts at such deviance in the past? And now he was here with his 'arch enemy' about to commit the glorious sins he had evaded his whole life.

Sherlock whimpered as Jim pulled back, licking his lips hungrily. "I knew our connection went deeper," Moriarty practically purred, "I want you, and by the feel of it, you want me too." Smiling cheekily, he nudged Sherlock's half hard member with his smooth pale thigh, causing the consulting detective to gasp.

"I want you," whispered Sherlock, his eyes closing briefly. God, he wanted this. He needed this. He would never have guessed that his match intellectually would seem perfect for his body as well. Lust darkened eyes gazed down at him, the dilated pupils taking in every detail of his chiselled face. Those perfect lips parted slightly so Jim's breath lightly touched his cheek; the pale skin of his jaw covered in a brilliant layer of dark stubble, accentuating the sharp jawline and cheeks of the consulting criminal. Sherlock could lose himself staring into those dark chocolate eyes, he wanted to run his hands through that thick black hair and pull him as close as possible.

Similar thoughts ran around Jim's mind. He knew he was attracted to the high cheekbones, the eyes the colour of the sea that bore into his soul, the cupid bow lips, the dark curls he couldn't wait to tug roughly then stroke gently. This might become more interesting than he first anticipated. He _wanted _him. Together as one they could be invincible.

Sherlock strained at his bindings, trying to get closer to Moriarty, wanting to kiss every inch of him. The shorter man noticed his attempts and closed the distance between them to crash their lips together, licking entrance once more into the delicious mouth. Hands roamed over Sherlock's chest, tracing the contours of his torso delicately, eliciting moans from him as his hands travelled lower, and brushing the smooth hair that ran down from his navel.

Jim brought his hands back up to cup Sherlock's face. He kissed down from his mouth over his jawline and began to raise love bites on the sweet pale neck, nipping gently at the soft skin before sinking his teeth into it and sucking hard, causing Sherlock to hiss in pain which quickly became a deep moan. Satisfied that his new lover was marked sufficiently, Jim gently began rolling his hips so his and Sherlock's now throbbing erections pressed together. Sherlock groaned loudly and raised his hips from the bed in an attempt to create more friction that sparked when they rubbed together.

His hands now resting on the taller man's shoulders, he increased the speed, revelling in the sense of euphoria it bought over him,. It wasn't as if he'd never done this before, it was just that something as simple as this was multiplied infinite times when done with this novice, this virgin, with the man he loved. This was what it came to, wanting the brilliant, clever, sociopathic man's attention, it was more than just base attraction, and he adored every minute of the chase and relished every second of their encounters. It boiled down to one fact; he was in love with Sherlock Holmes.

He pressed his mouth quickly on the cupid bow lips for a chaste kiss before sliding down Sherlock's body until he was straddling his shins. Sherlock whined at the loss of Jim's warmth, his prick standing in the cool air twitching with need. Jim couldn't leave him like that. Without hesitation, he quickly enveloped it with his warm, wet mouth, causing Sherlock's hips to buck up, his hands clench into tight fists and for him to moan shamelessly.

Sherlock felt as if he might finish right then but he didn't want to ruin it. He held back his orgasm with all his strength, unable to prevent the involuntary thrusting of his hips every time his lover licked up from the base and swirled his tongue around the head. Without warning, the consulting criminal took in all his length, his nose rubbing into the dark hair at the base. That was too much. Sherlock came with a loud shout, his eyes rolling in his head, his body shuddering as Jim swallowed every last bit that he could, prolonging the state of ecstasy that held Sherlock in its embrace.

As it quietened down, Sherlock became limp, his breaths ragged, his body aching and sweaty, a gorgeous smile playing on his lips. Moriarty climbed back to the top of the bed, his legs either side of Sherlock's body. He kissed him gently, putting all his affection and desire into that one gesture, their tongues entwining in a dance of love. As much as he could, the consulting detective tried to match Jim's passion, the taste of himself on those sweet lips was intoxicating.

"This will probably hurt," Jim breathed into his ear. However much he loved to fool around like they had been, the aching thro of his erection was becoming unbearable. Sherlock swallowed audibly. His eyes were dilated with arousal.

Jim retrieved a small bottle of lube from the bedside table and after applying a generous amount of it to his hand he slowly began to prepare his lover. Inserting one finger, then another, then another. Pausing each time Sherlock winced, allowing him to readjust to the sensation. Soon he was ready. Carefully, Jim slid himself into Sherlock.

"Are you ok?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yes," he sighed, eyes shut tight in pain and fingernails digging into the palms of his hands but wanting this more than anything else he had ever experienced.

Cautiously, he pulled himself out then eased back in, once more letting Sherlock get used to it. He began to thrust, slowly at first but increasing in tempo, one hand at Sherlock's hip, the other stroking him back into hardness. They moaned together at each thrust, Sherlock rolling his hips to meet Jim's, hitting his prostate every other time. His body convulsed as waves of indescribable pleasure crashed over him. With a last effort, he wanked Sherlock to another climax, both calling out the other's name. They collapsed in a sweaty, semen coated pile. Jim wrapped his arms around the slim body of his ex-enemy. This had changed everything. Definitely for the better.


End file.
